No Regrets
by ardavenport
Summary: The Enterprise-D is sent to make contact with Talos IV. But the Talosians don't want to talk. They invade Captain Picard's mind to make their their point and he finds it difficult to recover from it.
1. Chapter 1

**NO REGRETS**

by ardavenport

**- - - Part 1**

* * *

><p>"Position, Mr. Worf." Captain Picard sat forward in his command chair. Commander Riker on his right and Counselor Troi on his left both glanced up at the klingon security officer just behind them, but Picard's gaze remained fixed on the main view screen ahead.<p>

"Two million kilometers from first contact point," he reported, checking the readouts at his station.

"Slow to impulse," Picard ordered.

"Slowing to impulse." Commander Data responded, cutting the faster-than-light warp engines. Ensign Crusher, at the helm, made the course adjustments necessary for dropping to sublight speeds.

"Seven minutes to contact point," Commander Data continued. "Mr. Alvarez, are you prepared?"

Ambassador Lari Alvarez, standing on the upper bridge next to Worf, nodded confidently. "I've been ready since before I came aboard, Captain." His assistant, Poi Nan, smiled assuredly and turned back to the science station at the rear of the aft bridge.

Picard sat back. To Will Riker, he appeared calm about their assignment. In fact, the captain of the Enterprise was annoyed with their current assignment. To him it was unnecessary and potentially very dangerous. Commander Riker agreed. Of the Enterprise command crew only he and Picard knew all the details of their mission. Ambassador Alvarez and his assistant were the only other people on the ship who were fully informed of what they were attempting.

"Three minutes to contact point," Lieutenant Commander Data announced, his golden android eyes scanning the ops station at the fore bridge.

Jean-Luc Picard sighed and pursed his lips and waited. He would complete this mission assigned to him by Starfleet, but he was not required to approve of it. Counselor Troi sensed his displeasure and noted his frown. To her, he looked like an aristocrat pondering something distasteful.

"Thirty seconds to contact point."

"Mr Worf, stand by with Talos contact signal," Riker ordered.

"Ten seconds to contact point . . . . . . . . . Contact point reached," Data announced, precisely on time.

"All stop," Picard ordered.

"Answering all stop, sir," Wesley Crusher responded.

"Initiate signal sequence."

Worf complied and a beeping issued from his controls. "Hailing Talos on all frequencies."

Picard sat back and glanced at Will Riker. "Now we wait." Riker nodded in agreement.

They waited.

An hour passed, then two. Riker went to engineering for a half hour and came back. Picard went to his ready room, had a snack, drank some tea and updated the ship's log. The Enterprise's science officer came in and spoke with Poi Nan. Lt. Vasik came in for her shift at the engineering station at the aft bridge. Wesley Crusher's shift ended and he surrendered the helm to his replacement, Ensign Poirot. Ambassador Alvarez stayed on the upper bridge most of the time either looking over the readings on Worf's station or seated at the science station quietly conversing with Poi Nan.

Lt. Worf was annoyed by the man's presence but he didn't show it other than his usual frown. Klingons had little use for diplomats like Alvarez. He refrained from growling openly as he noted the man's presence at his elbow again. Pale blonde hair clipped short, slightly paunchy in his powder blue suit that perfectly matched his eyes, this looked soft to Worf.

Picard reentered the bridge.

"Status, Number One."

"No response, Still hailing on all frequencies," Riker reported, vacating the center command chair.

"Proceed to second contact point, Mr Data. Warp three."

"Proceeding to second contact point," Data answered. "Warp three."

"Mr. Alvarez," Picard addressed the diplomat.

"I wasn't expecting an answer at the first contact point." Alvarez walked down the ramp to the fore bridge and stood just behind the helm and ops stations. He straightened and looked at the view screen, forcing Picard to address his tailored powder blue back.

"The Enterprise will advance to the second contact point where we will continue our hail for another two hours."

"My mission is to establish contact with Talos IV. I expect we will have a response in the next few hours," Alvarez cut in.

"If we do not receive an answer we will leave the area immediately and return you to Starbase 11," the captain finished.

"Those are your orders," Alvarez admitted, still looking at the stars on the main view screen. Ensign Poirot, at the helm, glanced at him and felt sincerely glad that she was just a junior ensign, unlikely to be in the way of Picard's obvious displeasure. Everyone on the ship knew that the command staff was not happy with the idea of attempting contact with the mysterious inhabitants of Talos IV and the friction between them and Alvarez made the situation even more tense. Poirot hoped that nothing would happen. If Picard didn't think their mission was worth it then it probably wasn't. She kept her eyes on the helm and directed the Enterprise in a nice smooth course to the second contact point.

More time passed. Counselor Troi left and returned, spoke with Picard in his ready room for a few moments, and then they both returned to their seats.

"Second contact point reached," Data announced. During the time that they had been sending to Talos, Lt. Cmdr. Data was the only person on the bridge who had not gotten up to move around or go somewhere. Even Mr. Worf had left once to go to the head. But hours of sitting in one position did not bother an android. It was past time when he would normally have finished his shift; it was for all the command staff, but this was a special mission.

"All stop," Riker ordered.

"Answering all stop," Poirot responded.

"Still hailing on all frequencies," Worf announced. "No response." Worf sneered. Alvarez was next to him again, peering at the comm station again. Alvarez ignored the Leiutenant. All Klingons sneered as far as he was concerned.

Counselor Troi relaxed, her empathic powers receptive, but she felt nothing.

"I guess we wait another two hours," Riker commented, stroking his beard. When he didn't get an answer he turned an looked at the captain. Picard, hands on the armrests of the command chair stared straight ahead.

"Captain?" Riker passed his hand in front of him. Picard didn't even blink.

"Captain?" Deanna Troi sat forward.

"I think we just made contact." Riker said. "Deanna do you sense anything?"

"No," she said, shaking her head, surprised. "I don't feel anything at all."

"Captain," Riker tried shaking Picard's shoulder but there was still no response. He stayed frozen in place, the muscles of his body tensed and locked.

"Don't touch him." Alvarez had come around to stand in front of the command chair. His assistant stood next to Worf and looked down dispassionately. "If it's the Talosians, they'll tell us what they want when they want to."

"They picked a pretty funny way of doing it." Riker tapped his communicator badge. "Dr. Crusher, medical assistance to the bridge."

"I'm on my way," came the reply.

"Commander, he doesn't need a doctor." Alvarez's blue eyes stared intently at Picard.

"We don't know what their intentions are," Riker said tersely.

"If they wanted to destroy us, we wouldn't be here," Alvarez assured him. Riker was not convinced.

"Mr. Worf is their any conventional response to our hail?"

Worf shook his head. "None."

Poirot and Data had turned to see what was happening. Everyone was crowded around Picard who sat staring straight ahead at nothing. Troi touched the side of his face with no response.

"I'm don't sense anything."

"Nothing?" Riker asked.

"I don't sense any presence other than the captain and he's..." she paused, her dark eyes troubled. " . . . . . it's as if he's in some kind of stasis. I sense his presence, but I can't sense his thoughts."

"Don't touch him Counselor. There isn't anything you can do, and you might annoy them." Troi turned to Alvarez, annoyed herself that the man would think that showing concern for the captain would somehow offend the Talosians.

"They're not worried about annoying us." Riker shot back.

"That's what we're here for, Commander."

Any further argument was cut off by the arrival of Doctor Crusher. She didn't need to ask who needed medical assistance; she simply went to the person that everyone was looking at. She put her medical kit on the floor and scanned Picard with her tricorder.

"Life signs are normal." She took out a probe, held it to Picard's temple and checked the reading on the tricorder.

"That's interesting."

"What?" Riker asked.

"His brain waves show an almost pure delta pattern, like he were asleep, but there's some underlying activity in the cerebrum, as if it was being stimulated somehow."

"Is it hurting him?"

"Crusher lowered the probe. "I don't think so. Anybody want to tell me what's going on?" she asked.

"Commander!" They all turned toward Data.

* * *

><p><strong>- - - End Part 1<strong>


	2. Chapter 2

**NO REGRETS**

by ardavenport

**- - - Part 2**

* * *

><p>An alien stood between the helm and ops. It was humanoid. A simple pale gray robe covered its slender, sexless body. Its bulging skull was more than twice the size of anyone else in the room though it was shorter than they were. Riker stood and advanced to stand even with Alvarez. Picard stared blankly back at it's gentle, not-quite-benevolent smile. The Talosian nodded in their direction.<p>

Alvarez spread his arms, the palms of his hands empty.

"We...," he began.

The Talosian disappeared.

"Ah . . .," Picard suddenly went pale. His expression changed from neutral to shock. Then his eyes rolled upward and he slumped forward. Riker and Crusher caught him as he fell. They lowered him to the carpeted deck and Crusher scanned him with her tricorder again. It emitted an ominous whine.

"His heart's stopped." Riker and Troi watched in alarm while the Doctor dropped the tricorder and quickly grabbed instruments from her medical kit. She pressed a cardio-stimulator to his chest and then a hypospray to his neck. The effect was immediate. His eyes sprang open, he grabbed Dr Crusher's arm and raised his head. He looked about wildly, as if he'd just escaped from something and needed a place to bolt to. Still holding onto Dr. Crusher, he turned to face her.

"Beverly . . . . . ?"

"Captain?" Riker touched his shoulder; he could feel Picard's whole body shaking.

"Don't get up," Crusher told him, putting a hand on his other shoulder to keep him from rising. But he didn't try to get up; his eyes darted about the brightly lit room.

"I, . . . I'm on the bridge." Picard swallowed hard and shuddered and took a deep breath of air to steady himself.

"Picard, what did they say to you?" Alvarez demanded kneeling before the captain and Dr. Crusher.

"What?" Picard asked, confused.

"The Talosian, Picard. What did they say?"

"Mr. Alvarez!" Riker exclaimed angry at the man's single-mindedness.

"The Talosians . . . .," Picard repeated. "Will," he focused on his first officer. "We've got to get out of here. The Talosians, they don't want us."

"Mr. Data, get us out of here." Riker ordered.

"Riker, you don't have the authority." The ambassador told him.

Data, who was the only person on the bridge, besides Worf, who had not left his post when Captain Picard collapsed, turned back to the ops station controls and motioned Poirot back to the helm. "Reversing course back to Starbase 11." He and Poirot quickly made course corrections and turned the ship around.

"Warp nine."

Riker and Alvarez both stood.

"I believe that completes our mission. You may leave the bridge, Mr. Ambassador." Riker pronounced each word carefully.

"That's it. You're just going to leave it here. You're not even going to try to get some kind of confirmation?" Alvarez answered firmly even though he knew already that he would not move Riker.

"Mr. Worf, would you escort Mr. Alvarez and Ms. Nan to their quarters." Mr. Worf would have liked nothing better but the man waved him off.

"We were just leaving." He walked quickly to the turbolift, his assistant following.

Kneeling on the deck, Troi watched Picard carefully, her Betazoid empathy feeling what he felt; horror, surprise and a huge outpouring of relief. He'd let go of Dr. Crusher and now he kept flexing his hands and running them over side of his uniform. He was checking himself, making sure he was still alive, making sure he could still move.

Next to him Dr. Crusher packed up her medical equipment and took Picard's arm just above the elbow.

"Come on, you're going to sickbay."

"Sickbay?" he questioned, sitting up. "I assure you Doctor, I'm fine. I don't need to go to sickbay, now." He shook his head and ran a hand over his scalp. He almost smiled as if he didn't take her suggestion seriously.

Crusher did not smile back. "You're not fine until I say you are."

"No," he shook his head again as if trying to clear it. He was confused. Kneeling next to him Troi tried to sort through his responses. She knew that the Talosians had not just given him their message and left. They had plunged him into a private horror and just as quickly cast him off.

Beverly Crusher tightened her grip on his arm. "Captain, I don't know what just happened to you, but you're not going anywhere except sickbay until I find out. That's an order, Captain."

He glared at her. Picard did not want to go to sickbay but he realized that he was in a poor position to argue. His hands still trembled; his thoughts were vertiginous. 'Was he really the only person affected?' he asked himself. It appeared to be so. He was sitting on the deck and everyone else stood surrounding him. Concerned they all looked down at him. And Doctor Crusher had the authority to order him to sickbay. He lowered his head and nodded.

Dr. Crusher softened her tone. "Come on." She helped him up. She and Troi had to steady him; his knees were shaking. Riker reached out to help but Picard straighted and gathered strength.

"You have the con, Number One. Inform me when...when anything changes." Riker nodded and watched them go to the lift, Picard's steps becoming more sure on the way.

"Commander." Riker turned to face Data, still seated at ops. "I realize that you are not at liberty to discuss any specifics about the Talosians, but would it be safe to say that they are not prone to excessively violent or malicious acts?"

It took Riker a moment to sort out that Data was asking if he thought Captain Picard would be alright.

"He'll be fine, Data."

"It is curious," the android went on, tilting his head to the side. "The abilities of the Talosians to project illusion is rumored to be unequalled, but I was not expecting to be affected myself."

Riker paused. "Data, you saw it? The Talosian?"

"Yes, Commander."

"We're two light years from the Talos system."

"Yes, Commander. To my senses the Talosian appeared to be real, however," he touched a panel at his station, bringing up a bridge security status. "Ship's sensors recorded no intruder during the incident."

"Mr. Worf, can you confirm that?"

"Confirmed, Commander." Worf didn't need to look at his station, he'd already checked. "The alien did not register on ship's sensors."

Riker slowly walked to the command chair and sat down.

"If their illusions are that good," he wondered, stroking his beard thoughtfully, "how can they tell what's real, and what isn't?"

* * *

><p><strong>- - - End Part 2<strong>


	3. Chapter 3

**NO REGRETS**

by ardavenport

**- - - Part 3**

* * *

><p>"Approaching first contact point," Mr Worf reported.<p>

"Good. Reduce speed to warp six when we're half a lightyear past first contact." Commander Riker stood next to the klingon at the security/communications station. Unlike the ambassador's presence, the observations of his superior officers did not bother Worf. He expected them to look at his work and offer criticisms if he were ever lax. The two were nearly the same size and build, both large, male and muscular, the human slightly bulkier than the klingon.

Riker looked about the bridge and nodded, satisfied with the ship's status and tapped the comm panel at Worf's station.

"Riker to sickbay."

"Dr. Crusher here," came the reply.

"We're approaching first contact point. The captain asked me to report any change in our status."

"I've ordered the captain to rest in his cabin. I don't think he should be disturbed unless it's important." Her emphasis on the word 'important' said that she did not think that ship's status was. Worf gave Riker a worried look. Apparently the captain would recover, but now he was at the mercy of Dr. Crusher's restrictions.

"Understood," He waited a few seconds. "Computer, locate Captain Picard."

"Captain Picard is in his quarters."

"Captain's status?" Riker asked. If the captain were asleep then Riker would wait until he was awake. If he were up then Riker would make his report and neither one of them would tell the doctor. There was a delay while the computer weighed Riker's authority as first officer to ask such a question against the captain's privacy.

"Captain Picard is in discussion with Ambassador Alvarez."

"What?"

"Captain Picard, . . . ."

"Computer, Belay that," Riker ordered angrily. Worf straightened, Data and Ensign Poirot looked at each other and then back toward Riker who was already heading toward the lift.

"Mr. Worf, come with me. Mr. Data you have the bridge."

They were both silent in the turbolift down to the captain's quarters. They exited at deck five. Riker had decided he was simply going to eject Alvarez from Picard's quarters and if the man objected then he was going to tell him what he thought of him and confine him to his cabin. Worf fondly contemplated tossing the ambassador around a bit though he seriously doubted he would get the opportunity.

Riker touched the door chime to the captain's quarters.

"Come in!" an angry-sounding Picard answered from within.

The first officer found Picard and Alvarez facing each other in the center of the main room. Picard barely acknowledged their entrance; Alvarez ignored them entirely.

"Now, Mr Alvarez," Picard said, apparently continuing an argument. "If you still have any doubts about the Talosian's meaning I will quote to you, word for word, their message.

"'Talos does not wish or need any contact with the United Federation of Planets nor any other life forms. We will be as we have been.'"

"You remember everything so clearly then, Captain?" the pale-haired man challenged.

"In this case, yes. The Talosians seem to have made it impossible to forget and at this point I would prefer nothing better."

"Mr. Ambassador, perhaps this discussion could wait until tomorrow," Riker interrupted.

"Commander, Captain Picard and I are having this discussion, I don't . . . ."

"No we are ending this discussion," Picard stated firmly. "Our attempts to contact Talos were rejected; we will be returning you and your assistant to Starbase 11." He turned to Riker. "Status, Number One?"

"We've just passed the first contact point, sir. I've ordered warp 6 back to Starbase 11. We should be there in thirty-six hours."

"Thank you. Mr. Worf, will you escort the Ambassador to his cabin?"

Worf stepped forward and loomed over the smaller human, but Alvarez refused to be intimidated.

"We'll discuss this later, Captain," he said formally, head high, "when you're calmer."

Picard's jaw tightened, but he didn't say anything. If he did he would only perpetuate the argument; Alvarez would respond and then he would and then it would continue. Alvarez stiffly waited for a response, but Picard remained silent. The tactic worked, Alvarez was forced to turn and leave. He barely acknowledged Worf, who shepherded him through the door.

He relaxed visibly when the man was gone, reigning in his temper.

"Thank you Number One." He tugged the hem of his uniform top back into place and took a step toward the door. Immediately Will Riker moved, blocking him.

"Uh, Doctor Crusher said that she thought you should rest."

Picard's temper stirred again. Dr. Crusher had pointedly ordered him to rest in his cabin and he didn't take such orders well from either her or his first officer.

Riker stood firm, waiting for the expected rebuke, but none came. Picard was struck by a sudden sense of deja'vu. He'd done this before in the Talosian illusion. Slowly succumbing to the paralysis of M'Lak's symdrome he'd insisted on performing his duties for as long as possible even when it became difficult for him to walk unassisted. Riker and Dr. Crusher had confronted him, in his quarters, about it and he had stupidly refused to back down forcing their hand. They had relieved him command. He'd said some terrible things, particularly to Will. He'd apologized later, but he bitterly regretted saying them.

And now, it seemed, he hadn't said those things after all; it had all been imaginary. Now he felt like he'd been given a second chance.

"She did say that, didn't she," he admitted.

Riker had no way of knowing what was crossing Picard's mind, he was merely surprised by his superior's capitulation.

"Call if you need anything," He nodded and left.

Alone, Picard paced up and down his quarters a couple times, up to the round glass-topped dining table at one end, and back down past the sofa, chairs and potted plants to the bookcase at the other end and back again. He finally settled in the high-backed chair behind his desk. He checked the ship's status at the desk's computer terminal, but it didn't tell him anything that Riker hadn't. He started to make a log entry, but gave it up after a couple tries; he kept pausing for words and not finding any to describe what had happened to him. The event was still too recent for him to report on it with any real emotional detachment. It was irritating. In the past, he had faced certain death in countless ways and then calmly recorded it five minutes later. But this was different. It was personal.

He did not feel like resting as Dr. Crusher had ordered, but Commander Riker had made it clear that he would be noticed if he left his cabin. He sat back and gazed out the room's wide view ports at the onrushing stars. Looking at them usually helped him think, but not this time. He eyed a half-finished copy of Les Trois Mousquetaires sitting on an end table, but he didn't feel like reading either.

Finally he sighed and got up. He went to the bedroom. Perhaps if he laid down for a half hour or so, that would satisfy Dr. Crusher's requirements.

Two minutes later he was sound asleep.

* * *

><p><strong>oo!oo oo!oo oo!oo oo!oo<strong>

* * *

><p>"That guy doesn't know when to quit." Geordi LaForge agreed with Riker's assessment of Ambassador Alvarez's performance during their latest mission. The two were seated at a corner table in the shadows of the Ten forward lounge. The only light around them came from the lighted table top. There were few people around; it was late and a slow night.<p>

"Yeah, well after tomorrow he's Starfleet's problem." He sipped his drink and then looked up as a person strolled up to their table.

"May I join you?"

Riker pushed a chair out and she took it. She did not have a drink with her.

"I wish to apologize for the Ambassador's outbursts."

Riker didn't answer. He didn't dislike Poi Nan but he associated her with Alvarez, so right then he wasn't really fond of her either.

"He has a great deal of time invested in this mission." Her tone was exergetic, not apologetic, she wasn't asking for forgiveness. And Riker wasn't giving any.

"If I might say so, Ms. Nan, perhaps your boss could temper his ambition with a little concern for the people he's working with."

Nan shrugged. "He's disappointed. He thinks there should have been more."

"Perhaps he should seriously consider the idea that the Talosians simply didn't have anything to say to him." He stared back at her, his eyes icy blue, but Nan maintained a pleasant demeanor, as if she knew that his ire was for Alvarez and not her.

Geordi, feeling like he was intruding on a private conflict started to get up to leave, but Riker signalled for him to stay. He did not want to give up the company of a friend for that of the Ambassador's underling.

"I appreciate your explanation," He put a heavy emphasis on 'your', deliberately excluding Alvarez from the statement. "But if the Ambassador has any complaints he'll have to make them at Starbase 11." He sat back. "Good evening, Ms. Nan," he dismissed.

Politely, brown eyes not showing even a trace of insult or discomfort, she pushed her chair back and left the table.

* * *

><p><strong>- - - End Part 3<strong>


	4. Chapter 4

**NO REGRETS**

by ardavenport

**- - - Part 4**

* * *

><p>Picard woke up in the dark, disoriented. The walls were too close. He sat up quickly and looked about. The room was too small and cluttered; things weren't in the right place. Stars flew by behind him with familiar dark shapes under the view port and he recognized the familiar outlines of his own quarters. Where had he expected to be? Sickbay?<p>

He untangled his arms from the blanket and rubbed his eyes. He'd slept in his uniform. 'Ugh.' Now he felt sweaty and his mouth tasted terrible.

He tossed the blanket off and set his feet on the floor. He didn't remember pulling up the blankets or turning off the lights, but Dr. Crusher had said something about checking in on him later, so he supposed it must have been her. How much later was it?

"Computer, time."

"Ship's time is 0133," the modulated feminine voice answered. He'd been asleep for hours but he didn't feel the least bit rested. Wearily, he got up and went to the lavatory. He used the head, showered, cleaned his teeth and put on a clean uniform.

Feeling a little bit better, he went to his desk and brought up the ship's log on the computer.

* * *

><p><em>Captain's Log: Stardate 4792.2,<em>

_The Enterprise has failed in it's attempt to communicate with Talos IV and we are returning to Starbase 11 to drop off Ambassador Alvarez and his assistant._

_I must confess that I am not entirely disappointed in this outcome. I have had grave misgivings about this mission from the start. I believe even moreso now that the case for Talos' isolation was made quite clear a hundred years ago and our testing of that policy now is a wasted effort._

* * *

><p>Picard stopped the recording, pausing to compose the next section. He resumed the log.<p>

* * *

><p><em>The Talosians were quite graphic in their refusal of our communication. The illusion that they imparted to me, and only me it seems, was quite convincing and to me personally, very distressing. I have never felt so manipulated before in my life. If this is how they normally communicate then Starfleet is wise in quarantining their world.<em>

* * *

><p>He ended the recording. Then he got up and went to the safe, concealed behind his desk. He opened it and took out a secure note padd. Ambassador Alvarez had given it to him at the beginning of their mission and it contained all the secret information that Starfleet was willing to give him about Talos. On it were the log entries of the only two contacts that Starfleet had had with that isolated world. It had been with the <span>Enterprise<span> both times. Picard wondered if Alvarez had thought that being aboard an Enterprise, a later version, would carry any weight with the Talosian. Clearly it hadn't.

He reread the accounts of Capt. Christopher Pike and then those of Capt. James Kirk and his first officer Commander Spock. Picard was not the first person to be used by the inhabitants of Talos and that made him feel a little less humiliated. If anything Captain Pike had suffered worse since the Talosians had then intended to keep him before he'd proven to be too stubbornly human for their needs. But the logs Picard had were edited. They didn't say why the Talosians had wanted Pike nor did they say why the Enterprise had visited Talos IV in the first place. With Kirk they showed compassion for Pike, though they displayed it via blatant trickery. Christopher Pike had ended up staying on Talos VI after all. After a hideous accident had left him only a shell of a body the Talosians had offered Pike their illusions and Pike had accepted. But the Talosians had risked the careers and lives of Captain Kirk and Commander Spock to get him there.

Picard began to write out his own addition to the Talos record. He included all the bits that Starfleet would want to keep secret, especially about how devastatingly convincing the Talosian illusions were.

He outlined it all first and them filled in the details. He repeated his opinion that Talos stay under quarantine. He described what Dr. Crusher had told him about what had happened to him on the bridge. He noted that this seemed to be the first incident where time compression was included in their list of abilities. Then he described the three weeks that the Talosians had given him. He worked carefully, trying not to miss anything, dredging up painful details and recording them as coolly, and as dispassionately as possible. After two hours he was nearly finished with the report. He ended it with the actual message that the Talosians had given him.

_"'Talos does not wish or need any contact with the United Federation of Planets nor any other life forms. We will be as we have been.'"_

The words came to him with unnatural clarity. He winced at the memories that had immediately preceded that message. He lay in sickbay, his body horribly thin, wasted. No sight, no sound, just an occasional touch kept him company. He'd gotten to know Beverly Crusher's hands fairly well; at least he thought he had. He'd learned to hear Deanna Troi's thought's through her telepathy, but when death was imminent he'd sent her away; his demise was too painful to be shared so closely. In the end, when he'd thought he was really going to die, he'd found himself on the bridge, whole and completely well.

He felt the sadness, the anguish, the fantastic relief that he had then, and added to that was now his fury at having been Talos' pawn.

He got up and put the note padd back in the safe and then left his cabin. He had no particular place to go; he just didn't want to stay in his quarters.

He ended up in Ten Forward. The place was nearly empty. He saw two other people at the bar and a woman behind it and no one else. The Enterprise operated on a diurnal schedule and most ship's personnel were asleep at this hour. He took a seat alone at a table next to one of the large view ports. The woman from the bar came over and asked if he wanted anything. He didn't, but he asked for a glass of ice water so he'd have something to do with his hands.

He sat, staring out into space, not really thinking about anything. After a time he became aware of movement next to his table. He turned his head and saw Ten Forward's hostess, Guinan, standing there. She wore a bulky green, loose-fitting robe that completely obscured whatever her true body-shape might be. Her long, ropy, black hair was topped by a matching wide, flat hat. Her large dark eyes looked at him with concern.

"I heard you weren't feeling good," she said, taking a seat.

He grunted, dismissing the remark. "I'm fine," he answered, turning back to the stars. He didn't say anything and Guinan didn't press him for conversation, but after a very long silence she spoke.

"Got a lot on your mind?"

"Hmmmm," he answered nocommitally. The light from the table top carved deep shadows in his face, accenting his frown. "More than I care to think about." Then after another pause. "Guinan, do you know anything about the Talosians?"

She shrugged. "No more than anybody else. I understand their illusions are supposed to be mighty convincing."

Picard smiled wanly, without looking at her; his eyes had never left the star field as they talked. "That would be an understatement."

"Sounds like they convinced you."

"They convinced me I was dying." Guinan didn't answer adn Picard went on. "I can't help wondering if I really were dying maybe I'd make a better job of it than the Talosians think I would."

"I wouldn't know. I hear we're going back to Starbase 11 to drop off our passenger," she said, trying to change the subject.

"I wonder how they die," he continued. "Do they die their own deaths or just fade away into their own illusions?"

"I thought we were talking about Talosians," Guinan commented, not liking where the conversation was going.

"We are. In a way." He turned the glass around in his hands. He hadn't drunk any of it. The ice had melted. After a moment Picard's posture changed subtly. His shoulders relaxed, his gaze became heavy-lidded. Slowly, carefully Guinan reached out and gently touched his temple with the middle and third fingers of her left hand.

"They didn't have any business hurting you like that," Guinan murmured softly. She withdrew her hand. Immediately Picard seemed to revive.

"I'm sorry, did you say something?" he asked, having lost his train of thought.

"I was saying, it's late, Don't you have to report for duty in a few hours?"

He nodded and started to rise. Guinan got up with him.

"I'll walk you to your quarters."

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><p><strong>oo!oo oo!oo oo!oo oo!oo<strong>

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><p>Lt. Worf was annoyed. He checked his chronometer and it was only a minute later than the last time he'd looked at it. He stood at the comm station on the bridge and surveyed the circular room. None of the four other people in the room looked back. They had just reported in for their shift and they all knew what was bothering the klingon.<p>

It was 0604 and Captain Picard was late.

Worf checked the computer. Captain Picard was in his quarters. He growled to himself. On a klingon ship a lower ranking officer could be killed for disturbing a commander. Worf knew that this did not happen on Starfleet vessels and certainly not on the Enterprise, but it was a matter of etiquette. He did not wish to humiliate Picard by calling him up and reminding him to show up for duty. After all, it wasn't Picard's fault that he was a weak human. To Worf, that was his only failing as a commanding officer. The klingon's heavy brow furrowed.

"Bridge to sickbay," he said crisply in his deep resonant voice.

"Dr. Crusher, here." Worf knew that she usually worked on an early shift.

"I wish to locate Captain Picard. Is he in sickbay?" Everybody else on the bridge knew that Worf had just located Picard in his quarters and that he was just avoiding calling him directly. They would have all done the same. It was a commendable evasion. Who ever said that klingons couldn't be clever?

* * *

><p><strong>- - - End Part 4<strong>


	5. Chapter 5

**NO REGRETS**

by ardavenport

**- - - Part 5**

* * *

><p>Picard heard a voice but didn't associate it with anything. Then the comm chimed again and he opened his eyes.<p>

"Crusher to Picard."

He rolled over on his back. "Picard here."

"I'm expecting you in sickbay, Captain."

"Now, Doctor?"

"Now, Captain."

"Picard, out." He looked down at himself. He'd slept in his uniform again. But it didn't seem to have been for very long, so perhaps he was presentable. But how long had it been?

"Computer, time."

"Ship's time is 0606"

"Damn." He sat up and tapped the comm badge on his chest. "Picard to bridge."

"Lt. Worf here."

"SHip's status."

"The Enterprise is proceeding on course for Starbase 11. No further incidents have occurred since the Talos contact point."

"Thank you Lieutenant. I'll be in sickbay if you need me. Picard out."

Worf straightened at his post, satisfied with his use of discretion. Humans had to be handled carefully to bring out their strengths.

* * *

><p><strong>oo!oo oo!oo oo!oo oo!oo<strong>

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><p>Tests. Doctor Crusher had yet another test. Picard pursed his lips and rubbed his hands on the examination table that he was lying on.<p>

He'd lost his trepidation of sickbay that had caused his fainting spell the day before. He stoically waited while the doctor scanned him, kept still when she prodded him. But he still had vivid memories of being in sickbay for more critical reasons, so he stifled his impatience with the procedure. This minor inconvenience was nothing compared to what had happened to him in the previous three weeks, or what he thought had happened. To Beverly Crusher, Jean-Luc Picard was being very good. He 89hadn't once told her that he didn't have time for her examination and no matter how leisurely she might be with her tests he hadn't complained. It wasn't normal and she didn't like it. And he kept fidgetting with his hands. That wasn't normal either.

She had just initiated a brain scan when she noticed a familiar powder blue suit in the doorway.

"Out," she ordered without asking Alvarez what he wanted.

"If I might have a word with you, Doctor."

She walked over to him. "Later. Maybe when I'm not busy." Picard raised his head, ruining the brain scan, and started to turn to see what was going on. "Stay," she told him and then went back to her immediate problem. "I will speak with you later. Now, please leave," she asked with chilly calm.

I"ll come by later, when you're less busy." He turned and left.

Crusher sighed and turned back to her examination. She stopped the brain scan and reset the equipment at the diagnostic controls on the wall. Picard had turned his head to watch her. She walked over to him and put her hand on his forehead, turning his head so he was looking upward again.

"Lie still," she instructed.

"Thank you," he told her.

"For what?"

"Getting rid of Alvarez."

"He hasn't been making himself very popular lately," Beverly didn't mention that Alvarez had already been to see her the day before. He'd asked that she turn over her medical records to him for his report, so that he could verify that Picard had not actually been physically injured by the Talosians. She'd refused and had to restrain herself from yelling him out of her office.

"He's only doing his job," the captain admitted.

"He could do it with a little more compassion," she answered coldly.

Picard thought it was oddly humorous that she should demand compassion in such a heartless tone, but he didn't mention it. "Will this take much longer? I'm should be getting up to the bridge."

"This is the last test," she assured him, turning back to the scan. "Weren't you going to see Counselor Troi?"

Picard sighed; he'd forgotten that Troi had asked to see him. She'd said something about a few tests of her own and he knew he couldn't put her off any more than the doctor. He gave up any hope of getting any work done that morning.

* * *

><p><strong>oo!oo oo!oo oo!oo oo!oo<strong>

* * *

><p>Lari Alvarez returned to his quarters in disgust. Poi Nan, who did not rise early if she were not needed was presumably in her own cabin. He paced about restlessly, not feeling like going out. He knew he wasn't really welcome on the <span>Enterprise<span> by her command staff, just tolerated.

He'd given up any idea of convincing Picard to turn the ship around. His only hope of salvaging anything from this debacle was to convince the Federation to send another ship. But collecting the information he needed for his report was proving difficult.

He went to the food replicator and ordered breakfast. Beans, grits, a large sweet roll, coffee, juice and fruit appeared when ordered. He took the tray and set his place at the round dining table.

'The accommodations on the Enterprise really were quite good,' he mused while he savored the food. In it's own way the starship was a little piece of civilization travelling between stars. Complete with families and all the living and working conditions they required it technically qualified as a small city. The Enterprise was the perfect vehicle for representing to alien cultures what the Federation could be like.

So why had the Talosians rejected them?

He pondered the stars rushing by the view port while he thought. If they still listened in on subspace communications then it was possible that Talos already knew what he wished to negotiate with them. He wasn't asking them for trade, just a definitive agreement about what the Federation could expect from Talos and vise versa.

The quarantine on Talos was not mutually agreed upon. A hundred years ago, after the Federation had found out what the Talosians were capable of the planet had been declared strictly off limits. Talos seemed to agree with the situation and for the most part they'd remained silent about their lot in the galaxy.

The Talosians had not directly spoken to any other worlds, but incidents had occurred. Three ships in the last forty years had deliberately trespassed into Talosian space, one even claimed to have reached the planet, though the account was considered questionable since the crew of the ship also reported being instantaneously transported two light years away as well. They were also not considered to be reliable witnesses. It almost seemed as if Talos were toying with them. It was a disturbing possibility.

Alvarez stirred cream and sugar into his coffee and tasted the sweet/bitter mixture, the aroma of the coffee filling his nostrils. He set the cup down and munched the last of his sweet roll.

The worst of the Talos situation was that no one knew what these beings intended. Were they planning on a grim punishment to anyone who crossed their undefined border, or were they just bored and making sport with whomever happened along?

Alvarez was determined to have answers to these questions, but his mission had yielded almost nothing. And at the moment Picard was the only source of information.

He finished his breakfast and picked up the the tray to dispose of it. He'd had no success that morning or the day before questioning the captain. He'd hardly been able to see him. His staff was protecting him. The ambassador had to admit that they had their reasons. They were well trained and so, would naturally take Picard's side. But the captain had not been injured by the Talosians so his leisurely recovery galled the diplomat.

Alvarez went to the lavatory to wash his hands before leaving his cabin. He knew he would get to Picard sometime before they arrived Starbase 11. In the interum he planned on not wasting the morning.

* * *

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><p>Commander Riker contemplated his annoyance. He sat in the command chair on the bridge, chin cupped in his hand, his blue eyes staring at the back of the neck of the Lieutenant at the helm.<p>

He'd reported for duty at 0800. He and Captain Picard normally served overlapping shifts, although this morning the captain was busy in sickbay and with counselor Troi. As soon as Riker had arrived he'd discovered that Ambassador Alvarez had preceded him and had attempted to question all the bridge personnel about the Talosian contact the day before. Mr. Worf had sternly recommended that he refer to any reports filed by the people in question before he interrogated anyone.

It was obvious to Riker that Worf actively disliked Alvarez and the commander shared those feelings. The most irritating thing about the man was that he refused to be deterred from his own purposes by either common courtesy for those he worked with or simple intimidation. Riker supposed that these were good qualities for a diplomat. Alvarez wouldn't be very successful at his job if he let other people's hurt feelings distract him from his goals. Riker could easily imagine Alvarez interrogating an injured man under hot lights, denying him any humanitarian considerations until he had his answers.

Riker got up and strolled back up the ramp to the comm station behind the command chair.

"Mr Worf," he addressed the klingon, "if Mr. Alvarez returns I want you to refer him to me. I don't want him bothering the Captain until he's ready to talk to him."

"Aye, sir." Worf's fierce bearded features changed to a smile. His ridged high forehead, black hair, dark complexion and low eyebrows made him look sinister. Even if intimidation didn't work on Alvarez, Worf might enjoy trying.

* * *

><p><strong>- - - End Part 5<strong>


	6. Chapter 6

**NO REGRETS**

by ardavenport

**- - - Part 6**

* * *

><p>Deanna Troi walked into the chief medical officer's office to find Beverly Crusher at her desk.<p>

"Deanna," Beverly greeted her. "Have a seat."

Troi took a seat opposite Crusher. "Finish your tests?"

Crusher nodded. "I've just logged the results." She turned back to her terminal and brought up the current medical files. For several minutes she studied the outcome of Troi's psychological evaluation of the Talosian illusion on Captain Picard.

Troi waited and looked elsewhere while Crusher reviewed the tape. The office was primarily gray; gray desk, gray walls, gray floor. Except for a potted plant, she had added very little decoration to the regulation decor; it looked like a part of sickbay, colorless and clean. Troi found it a little depressing but appropriate. It would be difficult for a person to discuss life and death in a setting that was too cheerful.

The doctor sat back in her chair. "Well, there's no permanent damage."

"No," Troi agreed. "Considering what happened he's handling it very well. Captain Picard has a very stable personality."

Beverly clicked to the end of the report and logged that she'd reviewed the abstract, leaving the body of it to look at later. She faced Troi again, leaning forward, elbows on the desk.

"According to your report, your tests show that the illusions were real."

"Not real," the counselor qualified. "But I can't tell with any standard tests the difference between the illusionary memories and the real ones. And Captain Picard certainly can't."

"Which is just the same as saying they're real."

"To him, technically, they are," Troi admitted. "But he knows they're not real."

"On an intellectual level."

Troi nodded. "That is normally how our captain deals with emotional difficulties. Usually, it's one of his strengths."

"But not this time?"

"Not entirely. It does help him deal with a set of memories that are incompatible with the reality experienced by those around him, but it can't stop them from affecting how he feels. He will by nature try to suppress those feelings and it would be a mistake for him to try."

"Is that what you're going to tell him?"

Troi nodded. "Something like that," she replied, deliberately vague. They both knew that as chief medical officer Crusher had every right to ask for more intimate details. But it wasn't really necessary for her to know them and she didn't ask.

But she wanted to know more, Deanna's empathy told her that. She sensed a confusion of emotions from the doctor but primary among them was a wanting that went beyond concern for a friend. Deanna had sensed it on rare occasions from both the captain and the doctor. They were attracted to each other, emotionally and physically. There was a strongly repressed sexual tension between the two of them. It had been there for as long Deanna had known them and she suspected that it had been there for a long time before that.

Picard and Crusher had been old friends before serving on the Enterprise together and long before Beverly's husband and Picard's friend, Jack Crusher, had died. That death seemed to Deanna to be only one of many complications that kept them apart. The distance they maintained between each other was a comfortable one, neither one wanting to stir the desires that might be lurking under their friendship. It was only on occasions like these, when their equilibrium was was disturbed, that either one considered that they might want more from the other.

The silence between the human and the betazoid dragged on a little too long.

"I'd better go." Troi got up to leave.

"Deanna." She turned around in the doorway. "Thanks for coming," She smiled. Troi returned it.

"Any time."

After she was gone the doctor returned to the counselor's psychological report. The words glowed back at her, yellow on the black screen. She brought up a compilation of her medical tests on a second screen. They showed no lasting injuries, just a sudden physical fatigue that she'd accounted to emotional stress the day before. A night's rest had cured the fatigue neatly enough and Troi's tests showed that the emotional stress was waning as well with no significant scars.

She inspected a brain scan. Brain wave traces scrawled across the top of the screen in red. A three dimensional internal view of Picard's head with points marked in green denoted points of greatest activity. She had all the physical data she could want at her fingertips. But it told so little about what the person was really like. Or how they felt.

* * *

><p><strong>oo!oo oo!oo oo!oo oo!oo<strong>

* * *

><p>Picard was feeling anxious. After wasting the morning in sickbay and Counselor Troi's office he'd gone to his ready room, had lunch and gotten back to work. He finished his report on the Talos incident, reviewed the reports of his other officers and gave the completed ship's report his blessing for Starfleet consumption. He would have Alvarez chew on that until he was ready to talk to him.<p>

In the meantime he'd plunged into the details of ship's business. It had been difficult getting started. He felt like he was returning from a long absence; the memories from the Talosian illusion cluttered his thoughts. He'd made it clear as soon as he walked onto the bridge that he would not tolerate being patronized in the least way. No one questioned his orders and bridge routine resumed normally. But he kept catching himself looking at members of the bridge crew and regretting things that he had or hadn't said to them. Then he would be forced to remind himself that none of the things he remembered for the past three weeks had happened at all and if he did say something nobody would know what he was talking about. It put him in a bad mood and he stayed in his ready room for most of the afternoon.

He was just getting interested in a proposal from the materials science section on beginning a long term study of the corrosive effects of oscillating subspace fields when Troi had called and asked to see him. Now he sat in her softly lit office waiting for her verdict.

When he'd come in Troi had offered him tea, a more comfortable chair, dimmer lights. She was dissembling, which told him she was going to say something that he wasn't going to like. He didn't expect to be told that he was crazy, but psychological tests sometimes uncovered things that he'd rather were left alone. He sat silently at her desk, letting his body language tell her that he wanted whatever she had straight. She took his cue and seated herself.

She briefly outlined her results. His confidence was reassured by her assessment that he was not permanently affected by his experience. But she still had some recommendations that he objected to.

"Counselor," he argued. "I have logged the entire incident in what I believe was excruciating detail. I don't believe that I have tried to hide anything."

"Yes I've seen it and it appears to be factualy complete. But nowhere in your report did you say anything about how you felt during the illusion. You mentioned how you felt about the Talosians and their motives, but nothing about what you were feeling about what was happening to you."

Picard was surprised. He hadn't realized that he'd omitted anything. Troi went on.

"You have to tell the people around you either in words or actions if you're having any difficulties from the Talosian illusion."

"According to your own results Counselor, I have no difficulties to deal with." He sat forward, arms in front of him on the desk.

"No long term difficulties," she qualified. "But you can't behave as if nothing happened. Your memories from the Talosian illusion are as real to you as anything else that has happened to you. They are important, because they will affect how you interact with other people. And if you say or do anything based on them, they won't understand."

"I am fully aware, Counselor, of what is real and what isn't," he objected.

"Consciously, yes. But you can't control every unconscious impulse or action. You still keep flexing your hands, checking them for any signs of paralysis."

Picard's face went blank. He abruptly stilled his hands, holding them palms down of the table top. Troi continued, knowing she had the advantage.

"If you don't say anything about how the Talosians affected you, then you're as good as denying anything happened. And if you do that you may not recognize it when you are affected in your action or decisions." He stared back at her black, featureless eyes and felt acutely aware that she knew what he was feeling at that moment, maybe even what he was thinking.

"I don't discuss my own feelings easily, Counselor."

"I know." She reached across the table and laid her hand across one of his in a gesture of support. He averted his eyes. His thoughts shifted reluctantly over things he had hoped to avoid. Troi waited patiently. He settled on a decision. He turned his wrist so that he was holding her hand and placed his other hand on top of hers, trapping it.

"Deanna," he began, not looking up, "when I thought I was dying in the Talosian illusion, near the end, i couldn't see, couldn't hear, couldn't move" he squeezed her hand briefly and looked up at her. "And the only way I could communicate to anyone was through you." Now Troi was the one who felt uncomfortable. Her palm was heated and sweaty in his, or perhaps it was him. "Some very personal details were exchanged during those communications. I really think I need to know if any of that is true or just fiction."

Slowly, carefully Picard told her what he thought he had learned about her through the Talosians. She watched his eyes, the shadows on his features while he talked. The lighting and pastel decor of her office invited familiarity from the people she spoke with there. But now the setting was too intimate, even for her. Her betazoid heritage of total honesty had to assert itself over her human half's desire for privacy while she listened. Picard had so totally turned the situation around, Troi wondered who was the counselor now.

* * *

><p><strong>oo!oo oo!oo oo!oo oo!oo<strong>

* * *

><p>Poi Nan stepped out of the turbolift onto the bridge. Dressed conservatively, she wore a muddy orange tunic with brown pants, her hair tied back, away from her face. She unobtrusively scanned the room. Lt. Worf immediately noticed by her and scowled his displeasure. She calmly walked toward him.<p>

"Is Captain Picard available?" she asked neutrally.

"No."

Like Alvarez, she was unphased by the klingon's hostility. "I am not asking for the ambassador; I wish to speak to him myself. I understand he finished his interview with Counselor Troi a couple hours ago."

Worf frowned, annoyed that these people were checking up on his captain. "Captain Picard will notify you when he is ready to speak with you or the ambassador."

The door to the captain's ready room opened and they both turned to see Commander Riker walk out. He went to Commander Data at ops and spoke with him a moment. Data got up and went to the ready room. Riker watched him go; he looked preoccupied, disturbed, but that changed to displeasure when he spotted Nan standing next to Worf. He marched up the ramp to the aft bridge.

"Mr. Worf was just telling me that Captain Picard was not available," she said before he could speak.

"That's correct, Ms. Nan. And I would appreciate it if you would stay off the bridge."

Worf and Riker towered over the woman. She calmly nodded. "I'll be dining with the ambassador, if you need either of us," she told them before she strolled back to the lift.

* * *

><p><strong>- - - End Part 6<strong>


	7. Chapter 7

**NO REGRETS**

by ardavenport

**- - - Part 7**

* * *

><p>Lari Alvarez was just finishing a late dinner with Poi Nan when the comm panel in his cabin chimed.<p>

"Picard to Alvarez,"

"At last, Captain." He wiped his mouth as he spoke.

"I understand you want to speak to me, Mr. Ambassador, about the results of our mission."

"Lack of results, Picard," he told the disembodied starship captain.

"I'm available now if you wish to speak with me in my ready room."

"I will be there momentarily." He threw his napkin down and without a word to Nan left the room.

When he arrived on the bridge he noted with some satisfaction that the damned klingon was off duty.

But the android wasn't.

"May I be of some asistance, Mr. Ambassador," Data asked, deliberately stepping in Alvarez's path.

"No, Mr. Data, Captain Picard simply asked to speak with me. I am on my way to see him." Alvarez did not try to get around the Enterprise third officer; he knew it would be futile. He waited for Data to make the appropriate inquiry.

"Data to Captain Picard." He tapped his comm badge.

"Yes, Mr. Data."

"Ambassador Alvarez is here to see you, Captain."

"Please show him in."

Data tilted his head in the most neutral show of surprise that Alvarez had ever seen. He stepped aside and with some satisfaction Alvarez proceeded to the door of Picard's ready room. Data had been the most effective obstacle to his attempts to see Picard that day. Lt. Worf and Commander Riker relied on intimidation to scare him off and it had little effect on the seasoned ambassador. But Data's tedious distractions were harder to ignore. The android was so boringly polite that he would have made the perfect diplomatic attache'. If Alvarez were not so annoyed with the android he might have inquired about where Data had been manufactured and if there were any more of him available.

Picard was seated at his desk. "Come in," Picard said, turning his chair. "Have a seat. "You wanted to speak with me about our mission," he said as Alvarez sat down in the chair opposite him at the desk.

"Yes, Captain," he said with a trace of sarcasm in his reply. "I've read your report and your officer's reports and the ship's log and I wish to state my dissatisfaction with the outcome of our attempt."

"I see. And you intend to include that in your report?" Picard smiled congenially. He and Alvarez both knew that Starfleet would support Picard's decision to cut their mission short no matter what the ambassador said. Command had not apporoved of the expedition in the first place. The authority to embark on the Talos mission came from the Federation Council, not Starfleet.

"Yes, Captain."

"Well, I have been speaking with some of my staff about yesterday's incident, and I've been rethinking some of my conclusions about it. I intend to include these observations in my report and I though you might like to hear them before filing yours."

"I would like nothing better."

"Ambassador," Picard paused for just the right dramatic effect. Alvarez had reviewed Picard's extrensive diplomatic experience that came from being a starship captain for more than twenty years. He appreciated Picard's style but he did not care for having to wait all afternoon to hear the delivery.

"Have you wondered why the Talosians chose to say 'no' to our attempt at contact the way they did?"

"I would not presume to guess their motives." He folded his arms across he chest, unimpressed by the opening question.

"It would seem clear that they wanted us to leave."

"That would appear to be the case," Alvarez conceded.

"But why did they choose to deliver this messaage in such a dramatic fashion?"

"The Talosians seem to have a tendency toward excessive dramatics as far as can be told from our limited experience with them."

"But if they were just putting on a show, then why didn't they do something more extreme to any of the other ships that have been in their area?" Picard pressed a key on a secure note padd on his desk, retrieving a record. "Even the crew of the ship that claimed to have landed on Talos reported only to have been instantaneously transported out of the system. Nothing else happened to them and nothing severe happened to anyone else involved in any other recent incident."

Alvarez took a moment to answer. It was an inconsistancy, but it was still too early in the discussion to admit that any of Picard's observations might be valid. "As I said before, I don't presume to guess the Talosians' motives."

"Could it possibly be that that last ship actually landed on Talos?"

"Why would they allow that?"

"Because perhaps that ship wasn't noticed until it had landed. Perhaps these other ships that claimed to have entered the Talosian system weren't noticed until just before they were expelled."

Alvarez was interested in this argument but it had obvious weaknesses. "Picard, the Talosians are capable of projecting illusions lightyears away from their own world. You, yourself, are personally acquainted with their ability." Picard's back straightened. "How could a ship just slip in without their noticing?"

"I am quite aware of their abilities, which makes these earlier lapses even more notable. If they were just entertaining themselves as you speculate here," Picard punched up the Talos mission plan on the note padd, "then why would they simply send them away?" Picard returned his attention to the note padd. Alvarez looked at the reflection of the overhead light in the hairless top of Picard's lowered head. The captain had prepared his arguments well; they would be difficult to dismiss later if he didn't like them. "You also speculate," he continued, looking up," mission that perhaps they're dropping hints that they would like to talk to the Federation in some discrete fashion. Yet all we've turned up here is a very definite 'no'."

"You haven't explained how the Talosians could have missed those ships."

"We know that the Talosians are a dying civilization. Now if they really are dying out they won't do it all at once. Gradually their technological abilities will break down. They'll become less and less capable of supporting themselves let alone a complex monitoring of their planetary system. Now if you were a dying Talosian, how would you actually die?"

The ambassador didn't answer verbally; he just raised his eyebrows in an expression of positive interest. Picard was leading the conversation and he did not intend to be lead to any conclusions prematurely.

"If you were a master of illusion and all around you the world was becoming more and more difficult to survive in, wouldn't you choose to escape into a more comfortable reality?"

"So, you think they're losing themselves in their own illusions. Then why would they notice us now?"

"I'm sure at least some of them are aware of their surroundings. After that last ship landed on their world it must have jolted the rest of them back into the real world; they must have assumed we'd be coming sooner or later. All they'd have to do is monitor Starfleet communications to find out when. And we already know that they do listen to our communications."

Alvarez thought about it. He had to admit that it wasn't an unlikely scenario, and it was one that he had not considered at all. "Then why do you think they rejected us so dramatically?"

"They want to scare us off. Only Starfleet and the Federation Council know that the Talosians are a dying race and the real reason for Talos' isolation. The Talosians themselves have stated that we could learn their power of illusion and fall into the same trap that caused the decline of their own civilization. It's common knowledge that the Talosians are masters of illusion. If it became known that they were dying out . . . ."

" . . . . then every free trader in the area would be on their doorstep bartering the tools for survival for their illusions. Starfleet would never be able to catch them all."

"And," Picard finished the thought, the Talosians might be tempted to trade their secrets. "The Talosians sent those other ships away with as little indication as possible, without even a warning, that there would be anything worth going back for." He spoke with a bit too much feeling for Alvarez's taste. "But Starfleet already knows how dangerous they are. Now that their decline is affecting their ability to maintain their isolation they have a very strong motive for delivering their warning to us in as graphic a fashion as possible."

"I can't say your evidence is very convincing," the ambassador concluded.

"No, It's all quite circumstatial. I could be completely wrong. But there are so few facts about Talos that it seems as likely a possibilty as anything else. "If they are dying out, shouldn't we offer to help?"

This suggestion seemed to annoy Picard. "If they wish to be left alone, Ambassador, shouldn't we do as they wish? "

Alvarez smiled humorlessly. "You are, of course, correct. The Federation does not interfere where we're not wanted," he admitted. "If that is truly what they want."

"I don't think they could have made it any clearer," Picard responded angrily.

"Then why didn't they speak to everyone? Why only you?"

"I wouldn't presume to guess their motives, Mr. Ambassador."

"No, Picard, but as the Talosians become fewer and fewer they become more of a danger to us. It becomes more and more likely that some outside influence will gain control of their world and perhaps their secrets."

"Including us?"

"Would you prefer it be someone else? The Orions or the G'Haruis? The Ferengi?"

"I would prefer it be no one."

"That is not always an option." Alvarez laid his hands on the desk top and studied his fingertips. He had a silver ring on his left hand with a large milky blue stone. It matched Alvarez's ankle-length blue tunic, silver boots and sash. Picard had yet to see him in anything that was not a solid powder blue. It was a good neutral color for a diplomat and the idiosynchrosy seemed to match the man's determined personality. Picard would not allow him to make a second attempt to contact the Talosianns, so now he had apparently switched his priorities to changing Federation policy regarding Talos IV.

Picard hoped he would not succeed.

"You intend to include this opinion in your report?" he inquired.

"Yes, I believe so." Alvarez rose from his chair. "And now, I think I shall retire for the night. Thank-you for your insights, Captain. They have been quite enlightening."

"Good night, Ambassador." Alvarez gave a little bow and left.

PIcard sat back in his high-backed chair and sighed. He doubted that Alvarez would get Starfleet Command to change its mind about Talos. And with Starfleet against him he'd have little chance of getting the Federation council to sponsor a second attempt. The whole project could consume the rest of Alvarez's career and Picard could think of many more worthwhile things for him to do. But if, by some chance, he did succeed in getting his second try, Picard hoped he would never come face to face with the Talosians. A man as determined, as goal-oriented as Alvarez liked to have things around him under control, or at least predictable. Picard sympathized with that; he like to have things under control as well.

But when dealing with the Talosians, they would always control things, everything. They controlled reality itself.

* * *

><p><strong>- - - End Part 7<strong>


	8. Chapter 8

**NO REGRETS**

by ardavenport

* * *

><p><strong>- - - Part 8<strong>

It was late in Ten Forward

Lt Cmdr. Data, Lt Worf and Lt Cmdr LaForge sat at a table by the wall. The crowd was moderate that night in the lounge.

"I do not understand Ambassador Alvarez's motives. Apparently the Talosians told Capt. Picard that they do not wish to speak with us, yet he persists in advocating a second attempt."

"How do you know that?" LaForge asked.

"Captain Picard mentioned it before he left the bridge for the evening. He also hinted at his annoyance with the Ambassador's persistence when he spoke with me earlier." Data tilted his head, recalling that earlier discussion. "Have any of you noticed a preoccupation with death or dying in any of Captain Picard's remarks today?"

"Uh, well maybe a little," LaForge replied. Picard had visited engineering and because of the intervening 'three weeks' of the Talosian illusion he had needed to refresh his memory about the ship's engineering status. Some of Picard's comments about what had happened during the 'three weeks' Had disturbed Geordi. Could these beings make a person think they were really dying, losing the ability to feel, to see? Geordi touched his VISOR. He didn't want to meet thises people if they could.

Worf didn't answer immediately. Captain Picard had indeed asked him a question about death, but he did not feel much like discussing it. For no obvious reason Picard had asked him if he had a terminal disease would Worf challenge him to a fight to the death. The Talosian illusion had apparently inspired the question.

Picard had seemed satisfied with Worf's affirmative answer, but after he had thought about it for awhile the implications of him even asking such a question disturbed Worf greatly. Did Picard doubt that he would offer a dying man a decent death? Worf wondered what he might have done to lessen Picard's trust in him.

Worf looked at the single human at the table. Perhaps it was not a lack of trust on Picard's part that had motivated his asking. Humans instinctively shunned combat and much as Worf liked to think of Picard as having many desirable Klingon traits he was, sfter all, a human.

"If you were faced with a choice between death by slow disease or death at the hands of a friend in combat, which would you choose?"

Surprised by the question, Gerodi stumbled over his answer. "Um, I guess I'd have to take the slow death."

"Why?" Worf demanded.

"I couldn't ask a friend to just kill me. That's not what friends do."

Worf growled. It was the same as what Picard had told him. Humans clung to life in perverse ways. But after living among humans for so long he'd learned that their desperation to live was not entirely selfish. It was instinct for them and it made them good survivors.

Worf looked over past Data at Riker sitting at the end of the bar by himself and wondered what questions Picard might have put to his first officer.

Riker sipped his drink and stared down at the glowing surface of the bar. He rubbed a sideburn in thought. After a long while he turned to see Picard looking at him. He took the seat next to Riker's. No one else sat near them.

"I wanted to apologize for being so blunt earlier. It isn't any of my affair how you and Counselor Troi feel towards each other or what you might have discussed in the past." Riker didn't answer. "I don't think it would be inappropriate you did choose to resume a closer relationship." It appeared to be the wrong thing to say. Riker lowered his head a milimeter, his shoulders stiffening.

To Picard the thoughts of the illusionary Deanna Troi had revealed that she and Riker had discussed staying together permanantly when they were together on Betazed, but their lives taken separate paths and they'd been drawn apart. Now together again, it had occured to both of them that the Enterprise was the perfect setting to resume their relationship if they wished. Neither of them had seriously considered it but the illusionary Troi had wondered Riker's children would be like and Riker had privately thought that one of the things keeping him on the Enterprise was the Counselor. Now after having spoken about it to both of them he'd found that it all true for the real Will Riker and Deanna Troi.

"I regret this intrusion on your personal lives," the Captain said, feeling genuinely uncomfortable with being party to the private thoughts of his friends.

"You don't have anything to regret, sir." Riker ran a finger on the rim of his glass. "The Talosians are the intruders here."

"The Talosians are not known to be overly concerned about the feelings of the people they use."

The two men fell silent. Guinan, at the other end of the bar observed them from the corner of her eye. After a few moments the silence began to wear on Picard's patience.

"Counselor Troi recommended that I discuss my experiences and feelings about what happened with the people whom I perceived to be involved."

A sly smile spread across Riker's face. "And you started with Deanna."

"It seemed appropriate at the time," Picard replied, the picture of innocence. The tension relaxed between them. Picard let a hint of a smile show in his eyes and at the corners of his mouth. "Betazeds are supposed to be totally honest with each other about everything." "But it's still sometimes hard for a counselor to swallow her own medicine," Riker finished, his smile broadening. Then his expression became more serious. "Deanna talked to me after she spoke with you. I don't think that either of us is hurt or offended by what happened and if we were to discuss our feelings with any other person I think you would be the people we'd turn to."

"Would you have willingly spoken to me about any of these things?"

"Would you?" Riker countered.

Picard slowly shook his head. He let his gaze wonder and it seetled on a young man sitting alone at a table across the room.

Guinan slowly approached the two.

"Can I get you anything?" she asked Picard

He shook his head. "No thank-you."

She glanced at Riker and then back to the Captain. "You feeling alright."

He started to say that he was fine, but that wasn't precisely true. "I still feel like we tried to contact the Talosians three weeks ago," he answere enigmatically, but Guinan looked like she understood anyway. "I'm feeling better, thank you." His eyes returned to the table across the room. Guinan followed his gaze and nodded satisfied with the answer.

"If you'll excuse me." The Captain got up to leave.

He walked to a table by one of Ten Forward's view ports. Wesley Crusher quickly stood when he saw his commanding officer approach. Picard waved him back to his seat. After a moment's pause during which Picard seemed to be evaluating the young man, he sat down. Wesley looked down at his drink and resisted the impulse to excuse himself. He'd spoken with Captain Picard before on many occasions, but he had a feeling this was something more serious than a casual conversation.

"Wesley," he began slowly, not looking directly at the young man. "I've been thinking lately that I haven't told you some things that you might be interested in hearing . . . . ."

* * *

><p><strong>- - - End Part 8<strong>


	9. Chapter 9

**NO REGRETS**

by ardavenport

**- - - Part 9**

* * *

><p>"Crusher to Picard."<p>

Picard tapped his com badge. "Yes, Doctor."

"Are you busy right now? I'd like to speak to you for a moment."

"No." He cleared his throat. "I'm not not busy. Please come up."

"I'm on my way. Crusher out."

Picard turned off his viewer. He'd meant to speak with her the previous evening after talking with her son, but he'd put it off. It had been late and he'd though maybe she'd retired and he didn't want to disturb her. He'd thought he might catch her at breakfast, but after losing so much time the previous day he'd thought that he ought to catch up on a few things first. Now they would be arriving at Starbase 11 within the hour and he'd been thinking that he might put off speaking with her again.

"Face it," he said to himself, "you're procrastinating."

Dr. Crusher was the last person to whom he had meant to discuss what had happened to him in the Talosian illusion. He closed his eyes.

_/tell her that./_

He recalled the illusionary Deanna Troi's thoughts. Lying in sickbay, deaf and sightless, nearly emaciated from disease, his only link to the world was through the Betazoid's telepathy. It had been very difficult. Deanna Troi's abilities were primarily empathic and it was hard for her to extend her thoughts to a non-telepath. And it had been very painful for her. Picard had experienced little physical pain, in fact he'd had almost no sense of feeling at all near the end, but it was emotionally agonizing to approach death in such a gradual fashion and know that friends were nearby watching and waiting.

But the worst of it for the both of them was the utter lack of privacy of telepathy, each one prey to the anguishes and thoughts of the other. One regret surfaced several times for Picard and near the end of the illusion had Deanna Troi confronted him with it.

_/if you even think you love Beverly Crusher you should tell her, through me, while you can./_

_/no, she knows i care about her, i know she cares for me./_

_/but you regret that nothing was said between you, let it go now./_

_/no, i won't, not like this./_ One of the more hideous aspects of their link was that Picard could see his body through Troi's eyes. _/i should have said something sooner. i had the chance and i wasted it. now it will go unsaid./_ His resolve had increased with these thoughts. He had admitted to himself that he'd made a mistake by not saying anything sooner; he would not compound it by cobbling up a truly last-minute 'I love you.'

But the regret struck a nerve with Troi, as if it were a wrong that she had to right, and she had continued to urge him away from his decision. He could see Beverly Crusher through Troi's eyes; he could hear her weeping when she'd thought no one was looking; he could hear her saying things to him when she knew he could no longer hear and when she'd thought no one else was listening; he could feel her emotions through the Betazoid. Beverly had wanted him to hear her and she wanted him to answer. But he'd held firm and stayed silent; the idea of backing away from this final choice repelled him, because anything that was started between them could not be finished. He'd struck back at what he perceived to be the cause of Troi's persistence.

_/deanna, what is done is done. if you wish to share your life again with will riker then you have the opportunity to do so now. but don't confuse my regrets with your own./_

Her only response had been grief. She had become far more involved in the link than was healthy for either of them.

_/deanna./_ A new presence had entered the link; strong, healthy, focused. Troi's emotional agony had had a visible physical toll to the two people in sickbay observing the link. One of them had finally acted. Picard was shocked by how easily Will Riker's thoughts flowed to the counselor. His own tie to her was murky and shadowed, but Riker's thoughts to her were clear and pure.

_/deanna, come back./_ He drew he away slowly. Her presence faded away from him until there was nothing. He was left totally alone with his thoughts.

The door chimed.

Picard started. "Come," he answered.

Dr. Crusher entered. She walked to his desk, her hands in the pockets of her blue medical jacket.

"Yes, Doctor? You have something to report?"

She sat down opposite him at the desk. "Not anything new." She put her arms on the desk top. "My latest patient seems to be doing just fine."

"You wanted to discuss something?"

She appeared to search for the proper words and then settled on directness. "I wanted to thank you for speaking with Wesley last night."

He looked away momentarily then back. "It occurred to me that I've never spoken to Wesley about his father, what he was like when he was alive."

She reached out and put her hand over his. "It meant a lot to him."

"It was just something that I suppose I've been meaning to do. Wesley is very much like his father in many ways."

"I know." She lowered her gaze. He suddenly felt very uncomfortable, the memories between them almost tangible in the room. He saw her bite her lower lip, heard her inhale quickly. Her gaze remained fixed on her hand resting on top of his.

"I'd better go," She pulled her hand back, breaking the physical contact between them, and got up.

"Beverly," She stopped and turned, halfway to the door.

He pushed his chair back, stood and walked around the desk, carefully selecting his words as he did so. What had happened to him via the Talosians had been illusion, but the memory was real. He would not give into his impulse to procrastinate yet again and back out of his resolve to tell her how he felt towards her.

"I've been thinking that there have been some things that I've been meaning to say to you as well." They stood in the center of the room facing each other.

"Jean-Luc, Troi told me that the Talosian illusion was so real that it would be difficult for you to separate it from reality and that you would need to talk...," he raised his hands started to shake his head, "about what happened . . . ."

"Beverly, that's not what I'm trying to say," he interrupted. He motioned for her to take a seat and they sat together on the sofa. Before he could speak she began again.

"Jean-Luc, I don't want you to think that you have to say anything to me that you don't want to." She touched his arm.

"What I want is not to regret that I didn't say something when I could have." She looked puzzled and he realized that the double negative was confusing. He placed his palm over the hand still resting in her lap and left his fingers curl around it.

"I wanted to say that if this were another time or place, in other circumstances," he looked directly into her blue eyes, "I could find it very easy to fall in love with you."

Her cheeks flushed and she looked away. But she didn't move away and he saw her unsuccessfully trying to suppress a smile. Slowly he leaned forward. She looked back at his hazel eyes, her lips slightly parted. His mouth touched hers and paused. Her lips opened wider; her upper lip brushed his and his mouth closed over hers. Her hands crept up his arms to his back so her arms

lips opened wider; her upper lip brushed his and the tip of his tougue slipped out and licked it in return. Her hands crept up his arms to his back so her arms

rested over his shoulder around his neck. His arms slipped easily around her waist, his hands caressing the small of her back. The embrace felt so natural to both of them. There was no clumsiness at all to their movements and the tension between them disappeared.

His hands drifted lower. Her grip on him tightened. They were pressed so closely together that he could feel the outline of her Starfleet insignia on his chest. A simple kiss was quickly threatening to become a great deal more.

He pulled back and he felt her body warmth leave him. He brushed her hair back from her face and let it linger on her cheek. He let his hand fall to her shoulder and shook his head.

"I'm sorry, Beverly. I don't think it can go any further." Her arms loosen on his shoulders but her smile didn't change.

"I know," she answered.

"You do?" he asked, surprised.

"Um hmm." One of her hands began stroking the back of his neck and the short, gray hairs on the back of his head. "Jack used to say that one of the reasons why you were so good in Starfleet was that you would put yourself totally into whatever you were doing. And that didn't leave a lot of room for anything else."

"He said that about me?" Her fingers massaged the skin on the back of his head above his hairline. He ignored the sensation, the analysis making his more uncomfortable that her touch.

"Um hmm. He said you couldn't do anything halfway. That you were afraid that if you let anything or anyone get too close to you that you would throw yourself into it instead of your work."

Jean-Luc smiled as if he'd been found out. "I wonder what he would say about me now," he speculated, hoping that he had gained some wisdom beyond the intense drive of his youth. Then he realized that if Jack Crusher were still alive he would not have his arms around his friend's wife. He tensed, thinking that his remark would offend. He could still see pain in her eyes whenever Jack was mentioned.

Her expression saddened, but the years had cushioned her loss. 'Is that why we never want to get too close, Jean-Luc?' she wondered to herself. His hands still rested on her hips and her fingers lightly touched him behind the ear.

"It could be difficult for us to . . . ." She didn't finish the sentence because she wasn't certain how far they would go beyond simple physical needs. "But I don't think it would be unpleasant."

His hands travelled over her shapely hips to her waist. He felt the softness of her body underneath her uniform. "I like to think that I'm not quite so dedicated to my career to the exclusion of everything else. I suppose it's possible to have something more than friendship . . . ."

"It didn't hurt my career any," she told him frankly.

He found her statement reassuring but he still felt uncertain. If they did develop a relationship would he still be able to act as her commander effectively? It seemed to him to be such bad form to become involved with a member of his crew. It could seriously complicate things. Would his feelings toward her affect his judgement in an emergency? He shook his head, undecided. "I don't know, Beverly."

She smiled and kneaded his shoulders which seemed to have relaxed considerably. "I know." She drew closer and he didn't back away. Her lips met his and the kiss deepened immediately. Her warmth returned to him and he breathed in the scent of her skin, her hair.

The lights went out.

They separated, the sound of their lips parting loud in the suddenly blackened room.

"What?" Picard tapped his communicator badge. Nothing happened. He didn't even hear a buzz to indicate that it was malfunctioning. "My communicator's out." Crusher touched her own with the same result. "Mine too."

He got up and moved toward the door. She heard him stumble and curse at a small table. The room was utterly black without even emergency lighting. The glow from the port behind Picard's desk was barely enough to see by.

"What's that?"

Picard turned. His eyes were beginning to adjust to the darkness and he was just barely able to Dr. Crusher pointing at a familiar planet framed in the view port.

"We must have arrived at Starbase 11. What's going on here?" He resumed his search until his fingers found the door. It didn't open.

* * *

><p><strong>- - - End Part 9<strong>


	10. Chapter 10

**NO REGRETS**

by ardavenport

**- - - Part 10**

* * *

><p>"ETA to Starbase 11 Mr. Data?" Riker asked from his seat at the command section.<p>

"ETA, Forty three minutes," the android responded crisply, glancing at his controls though Riker suspected he didn't really need to look to know the answer. The motion was probably only added to his answer to imitate his human crew mates. Riker thought about notifying the captain, but decided to wait until Dr. Crusher left the ready room.

Riker heard the doors to one of the aft turbolifts open and a moment later he saw Ambassador Alvarez followed by his assistant descending the ramp to the fore bridge. Picard had granted him liberty to the bridge for the duration of their mission, but now that it was completed Riker didn't see that he had any business coming up now.

"You wanted to see me Commander?" Alvarez questioned, stopping directly in front of him.

"What?" Riker asked.

"You wanted to see me?" Alvarez repeated.

Riker looked at Troi but she seemed as surprised as he. "I didn't call you."

Now Alvarez was confused, but it quickly changed to annoyance.

"If you're playing games with me, Riker . . . ."

"I'm not playing games," he denied, standing. "I didn't call you."

"I heard you, Commander. My assistant heard you."

"I don't care . . . ."

"Commander," Data's call broke the confrontation. "We are oritting Starbase 11."

"What?" Riker went to ops to look down at Data's station. "We're not supposed to be there for another forty minutes."

"We are orbiting Starbase 11," Data repeated, surprised as well. He touched a control and the view screen changed to show the globe of the nameless planet that was identified solely by the Starbase it supported.

"Confirmed Commander," Wesley Crusher reported from the helm.

Lt Worf frowned deeply at the sudden unexplained change in the readings from his station. He tapped the comm. "Captain to the bridge." After several seconds of silence he repeated his call with no result.

Riker looked back at the Klingon and then went to the door of the Captain's ready room. The door didn't open. He checked the control panel, but it showed that it was unlocked. He tapped the chime. Nothing happened.

"What the hell is going on around here?"

* * *

><p><strong>oo!oo oo!oo oo!oo oo!oo<strong>

* * *

><p>"Somebody must know we're in here," Dr. Crusher said from the view port. It was the only source of light in the room so she had gone to stand next to it.<p>

"Everyone on the bridge knows we're in here. The question is what are they doing out there?" he asked, trying to think of what he had in his office that he could use to pry the doors open with, but the only things he could think of were on the bridge. He went to the view port, opposite Crusher. The red of her hear and blue of her uniform top and jacket were partially washed out in the reflected glow of the planet. Her skin looked unnaturally pale, accented by the gloom.

"If there isn't any power in here then there probably isn't any on the rest of the ship," she said. Without any power a spaceship was a death trap, a bubble of air and warmth that would eventually lose both.

"It's too soon to be giving up yet, Doctor," he reassured, guessing her thoughts. "I don't understand it, though," he went on. "Even if the warp and impulse engines totally failed there should at least be emergency lighting."

"Well, if we're stuck here, I couldn't think of another person I'd rather be stuck with," she said, in an attempt at lightheartedness.

Picard couldn't hold back a tiny smile, but he quickly returned to business. The mood of the moment had been shattered when the lights had gone out. "Well, with any luck we won't be here for long. They know we're in here. They'll get us out." Inwardly he had his doubts. He knew perfectly well that Lt. Cmdr. Data could have easily forced the door open once it was discovered to be inoperative. The fact that he hadn't yet meant that something else was keeping the bridge crew busy.

He heard a gasp. He turned back from the door and saw the doctor's face, surprised and strangely altered. Then he realized that it wasn't her face that was changing, it was the light from below. The planet's surface had become watery. It shifted and rippled from a living world to a dead, brown and gray. He'd never seen it before from orbit, but the transformation itself told him what it had to be. He looked at Beverly, long shadows painted on his face from the eerie light below.

"Talos Four."

* * *

><p><strong>oo!oo oo!oo oo!oo oo!oo<strong>

* * *

><p>. He had calculated exactly how much pressure he would need to exert to force it open while causing the least damage to the mechanism. Yet when he exerted that pressure nothing happened. He gradually increased the pressure and nothing happened. He was now nearing the limits of the tolerances of his own bio mechanical functions and it still remained stubbornly closed. Regretfully, he released his grip and turned apologetically to Commander Riker.<p>

"I'm sorry, sir. I do not understand it. It should have opened."

"I don't know what's going on, either." Riker shook his head and tapped his com badge. "Engineering, we're going to need somebody up here on the bridge to cut open a door."

"LaForge here. You need what?"

"You heard me Mr. LaForge. We need to cut open a door. Send somebody up immediately."

"Aye, Sir. LaForge out."

he turned back to the main bridge. Data returned to the ops station. Standing next to the command chair, Alvarez waited impatiently, arms folded across his chest. His assistant stood precisely in the center of the circular fore bridge area. Everybody else was at their post, doing their job. Riker would have liked to have blamed this mystery on the diplomats, but he knew that there was no possible way that they could be involved.

"Mr. Worf, has Starbase 11 answered yet?"

"Still no response, Sir, on any channel."

"Commander," Mr. Data brought his attention back to the main view screen. "The planet,..."

The planet's surface blurred and changed to a weathered brown and slate.

"What is that?" Alvarez asked, advancing to where Riker was standing.

"It's where you wanted to be, Mr. Ambassador." Riker and Alvarez and everyone else turned at Poi Nan's statement; Her voice was oddly loud and contained a queer multiplicity of tones that no one had ever heard from her before. She smiled calmly back at them and then, like a wisp of smoke, vanished.

"Commander," Data spoke again. "According to the sensors, positional readings of the surrounding stars," he turned to face them, "we are orbiting Talos IV."

* * *

><p><strong>oo!oo oo!oo oo!oo oo!oo<strong>

* * *

><p>Decks below the bridge, in the Ten Forward Lounge a being that had not felt surprise many times in her long life stood amazed with her patrons, astonished by the altered world in the view ports.<p>

"No," Guinan told herself. "It can't be . . . . ."

* * *

><p><strong>oo!oo oo!oo oo!oo oo!oo<strong>

* * *

><p>Riker stared at the planet. A creature, identical to the one that had materialized two days before, appeared in front of the the view screen. The commander straightened; Worf drew his phaser. Without moving it's pale, thin lips the Talosian 'spoke'.<p>

** We have been aware of your mission to contact us for some time and it was believed that a demonstration of our capabilities was needed to reestablish our desire for privacy. And to dispel any concerns for our immediate demise.

This ship has been under our influence since leaving Starbase 11. **

"What happened to my assistant," Alvarez demanded. Riker was a tiny bit surprised that the man had actually expressed concern for another person.

_** Your assistant was never aboard this ship. Her presence was merely simulated by us as a token of our ability. She is still on Starbase 11. **_

"That's impossible," Riker denied. "We would have been contacted."

_** The __Enterprise__ has had no real communication with the starbase since its leaving. Any thought to have been received were produced by us. **_ The being nodded its enormous head, huge veins bulging over the cranium.

"Where's Captain Picard; why can't we get to him?" Riker raised an arm toward the closed ready room door.

_** Captain Picard is already quite convinced that our need for privacy is sincere. But through the interactions with your fictional assistant, we have observed that you, **_ it nodded toward Alvarez, _** do not. This is why it was felt that a second demonstation was needed. **_

Alvarez adopted a diplomatic posture. "We only wish,..."

"Second demonstration?" Riker asked himself quietly.

_** Talos does not wish or need any contact with the United Federation of Planets nor any other life forms. We will be as we have been._

_We wish you to maintain all your restrictions to our system as they are now. **_

The Talosian blinked slowly, smiled and nodded again. And then it vanished.

Immediately an irritating whine started up from nowhere and quickly built into a wall of sound that crushed in from everywhere.

"Mr. Worf," Riker called, staggering to his seat.

Worf, having dropped his phaser, focused on the comm station in an attempt to block out the deafening squeal. "It doesn't register on bridge sensors."

Riker fell into his chair. "It isn't real," he yelled back. The bridge sensors would not pick up the paralyzing noise, but a fragile humanoid brain couldn't shut it out. Squinting from the pain, Riker saw Alvarez go to his knees, Ensign Crusher bent forward clutching his ears, even Mr. Data seemed to be frozen in his seat.

* * *

><p><strong>- - - End Part 10<strong>


	11. Chapter 11

**NO REGRETS**

by ardavenport

**- - - Part 11**

* * *

><p>In the ready room Captain Picard clutched the edge of his desk in the darkened room. Next to him, Dr. Crusher was on her hands and knees. He could feel her arm next to his leg. He knew that the sound and pain couldn't be real if it came from the Talosians, but the knowledge did him no good. The pressure in his ears, at his temples, squeezed hallucinations into his vision. Electric blue phantoms flitted over a red haze. His eardrums popped. Fluid seemed to rush down from his brain into his ears and shuddering, he slid to the floor.<p>

* * *

><p><strong>oo!oo oo!oo oo!oo oo!oo<strong>

* * *

><p>"Report," Captain Tryla Scott asked her chief engineer.<p>

Commander Murray consulted the results of her scans. "There's no damaged at all. Warp and impulse engines are operative, but only at minimal power. There's no sign that anything's happened to her at all. She's just drifting." She stood at the secondary science station on the bridge of the Renegade, her captain next to her. She brought up several diagrams, internal and external, of a galaxy class starship. All the little arrows and status indicators around it were green. The name, Enterprise, glowed at the bottom of the picture.

"Life signs?" Captain Scott asked calmly.

Her science officer examined his instruments. "Sensors indicate full ship's compliment. But they're not moving around at all over there."

Scott walked over to him and looked at the readouts herself. Nothing at all odd appeared there. And nothing showed up to indicate why a thousand people were just sitting there. No radiation, no contamination, no alien life and no answers. The mystery hung there in space a mere five-thousand kilometers from the Renegade.

The Enterprise had left Starbase 11 four days ago and had immediately fallen out of contact. She was supposed to have reported her condition at regular intervals, but had instead apparently vanished once out of sensor range. After an unpardonable delay because of the secret nature of the Enterprise's mission, a distress call had gone out from Starbase 11. The Renegade was the first ship to answer.

Tryla Scott, one Starfleet's youngest and most capable starship captains, always attacked her missions confidently. But when she'd heard it was the Enterprise that was in trouble she'd felt a personal stake in this rescue. She owed Captain Picard a favor, a very big favor. Not long ago he and his first officer had not only saved her life, but her mind as well from creatures that had threatened to overwhelm Starfleet itself. If Picard had not acted she would still be a drone for a mind parasite.

"Dr. Casius,' she called her medical officer, "join me in transporter room two with your medical team." She nodded toward a gold uniformed Lieutenant. "Ms. Atkins you'll join us." Together they went to the turbolift.

* * *

><p><strong>oo!oo oo!oo oo!oo oo!oo<strong>

* * *

><p>Will Riker heard noises, voices, somebody walking around. He wondered who it was and why they were being noisy while he was sleeping. Then he wondered why he could hear them at all. Where they in his cabin?<p>

His cheek rested against a hard plastic surface and it was incredibly uncomfortable. The film of drool that his mouth and beard pressed against was disgusting. His neck hurt. His back hurt. He raised an eyelid. He read 'BRIDGE FUNCTIONS ON STAND-BY' blinking next to his eyeball. He then realized that he was definitely not in his cabin.

Panicked by the idea of falling asleep at his station on the bridge, his head and body jerked back.

"Captain!" he heard a woman's voice call. There were too many people standing on the fore deck, at least three or four of them. He was confronted by strangers. Except for one familiar face.

"Commander Riker?" Tryla Scott crouched in front of him. A brown-haired woman in a blue-green and black uniform pointed a medical scanner at him.

"Captain Scott?" He sat up and put a hand to one of his ears. "We're not orbitting Talos anymore, are we?"

Scott smiled and stood. She had short black hair and smooth dark skin and a deep resonant voice. Even without her rank insignia she would always look like a captain. "I hope not. Unless they're hiding it somewhere we should be at least eight light years from the Talos system.

Riker shook his head and hoped that that was true. He looked about. Somebody was helping Ambassador Alvarez up; Wesley Crusher was already on his feet. Worf growled at a too-attentive medic. A gold-shirted man puzzled over Mr. Data with a tricorder and didn't get any response at all from the android.

Riker stood and Scott's medical officer pronounced him sound.

"I hope you have a good explanation for all this," Scott told him half-seriously. "You dragged us pretty far off our course and it looks like you don't have an emergency to show for it." Will Riker's eye's settled on the captain's ready room. The doors seemed to be jammed open. Apparently Mr. Data had been successful in opening it and only an illusion had kept them out. He took a step forward.

"Where's Captain Picard?" Scott asked.

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><p><strong>oo!oo oo!oo oo!oo oo!oo<strong>

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><p>Beverly stirred. She could feel a body next to hers, almost lying on top of her. It was resting on her left arm, cutting the circulation. She tried to pull it free but the weight on it was too heavy and her tugging caused it to roll over on to her chest. She felt a warm breath on her neck. Then another. She tried to push it away, but she only had one arm to work with and one of her legs was trapped between two others and moving only further entangled them. She heard people in a room nearby. She opened her eyes.<p>

She saw the ceiling and the top of a smooth hairless head.

"Jean-Luc," she breathed.

He awoke slowly. He was lying on something lumpy, parts of it soft and warm, others hard and bony. He felt about for something familiar. His hand dragged across an arm, a shoulder, a breast. He felt something move between his thighs. He opened his eyes. His nose tickled and he raised his head from the fragrant red hair. His eyes met the blue ones of Beverly Crusher and she gave him a little smile. The same thought crossed their minds, 'Did we...?'

"Captain?" The call broke the spell.

It came from behind him and he craned his neck to see who it was. He saw strangers. And Commander Riker. And Lt. Worf. And Wesley Crusher peering over somebody's shoulder.

He quickly rolled off the doctor and sat up, hitting his head on side of his desk.

"Ow," he said, which surprised him. He didn't think he ever said 'ow'. This galvanized the spectators into action and they quickly helped the two of them up off the floor. Explanations came next and he was soon informed of the final results of their mission to Talos. Alvarez himself told Picard what the Talosians had said to him.

Nobody seemed interested in mentioning the compromising position that Picard and Crusher were lying in when they were found; there were too many other things going on to worry about a minor occurrence like that. But the captain couldn't help noticing more than one second glance that he and Doctor Crusher got from the other bridge crew members when the subject of the mysteriously closed ready room door came up. Riker's smile became slightly wicked; Wesley Crusher looked very worried. Picard brushed the incident aside in favor of more immediate ship's business.

"All right," he said after the brief discussion. He tugged his uniform into place. "Let's get this ship back on it's feet, Number One."

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><p><strong>oo!oo oo!oo oo!oo oo!oo<strong>

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><p>Half a day later Doctor Crusher walked into Captain Picard's ready room though the newly repaired doors. It was late.<p>

She put a note padd on his desk.

"Crew physical reports?" Picard said glancing up from his own computer terminal. She nodded and sat down. She and her medical staff had just finished examining the entire crew and even with the help of Renegade personnel the process had taken hours. She was tired.

He noted her casual posture. "Nothing serious I gather."

"Not even a sprained ankle. The last thing anybody remembers is that whine and then the lights going out. Except for Mr. Data. The last thing he recalled was somebody tapping his 'off' switch. We didn't revive him until we got him isolated in sickbay." Picard nodded at this. For justifiable reasons Lt Cmdr Data was a little sensitive about who knew about his 'off' switch. Crusher continued. "And then we had to press it twice. Once to really turn him off and again to turn him back on again. He says that his internal 'clock' indicates that he was deactivated for only a few seconds when in fact it was several hours."

"Is that your estimate of how long we were all unconscious?"

"About seven I'd say."

Picard looked disappointed. "I was hoping Mr. Data could give us some new information about what happened." He gestured toward his terminal. "Except for the senior officers' logs everything about what we've been doing for the past four days has been erased." He folded his hands "I suppose we were never really at Talos IV. We couldn't possibly travel eight light years in only seven hours, even at maximum warp."

"The ship's sensors didn't pick up anything while we were unconscious?"

"We don't know; it's all gone. The next thing we have recorded after leaving Starbase 11 is the arrival of the Renegade."

"Well, I'm sure he'll be disappointed that he can't help you, but I'm beginning to think Data's the only person on this ship who might have gotten something out of the experience."

Picard looked surprised.

"He thinks," Beverly explained, "that the fact that the Talosians affected him the same way they did us has some metaphysical meaning about his status as a like form. He was telling Geordi all about the last time I saw him."

"In copious detail." The Captain was well aware of Data's tendency toward long, tedious discussion.

"Very." Beverly returned his smile. Then it faded. "I also talked to Guinan. She's about as put out as I've ever seen her. I don't think she likes the Talosians."

Picard agreed, unsurprised that the Talosian illusion had fooled even the unusually perceptive Guinan.

"Have the Renegade medical personnel returned to their ship?"

Beverly nodded. Her gaze wondered to the room's view port. Presumably it was the real Starbase 11 hung in space above them.

"Good," Picard answered, his thoughts returning to his ship. He wanted to speak with Tryla Scott one more time to thank her for her help before she left. "Dismissed." He went back to his terminal. He also wanted to talk to Alvarez who had returned to Starbase 11. Picard still thought that that the Talosian civilization was reaching the final stages of its terminal decline. The Talosians were far too advanced to think that bullying the Enterprise would effectively keep other ships away on a long term basis. Threats were the most primitive form of persuasion. But they could be effective on a short term basis and perhaps that was all the Talosians were worried about. Perhaps the Talosians didn't have much time left at all.

"Jean-Luc."

He looked up. She was still sitting there.

"Why do you think the Talosians locked the door to the ready room when they did?"

He met her eyes, then looked away. He shut off his terminal and sat back in his chair. He had avoided thinking about it and wasn't sure he was prepared to discuss it. But now, sitting alone with Beverly, he didn't feel that he could sidestep the issue anymore.

"Perhaps they have a little respect for dignity."

"They didn't seem to be very concerned for our welfare, especially yours," His thoughts went to that first traumatic encounter less than three days ago. He frowned. He still felt like it had been weeks since they'd left Starbase 11 for this mission even though he knew it had only been a few days.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have . . . .," she said, regretting reminding him of his experience.

"No, no, it's all right," he waved her concern aside. "All in the past," he reassured her. "The Talosians have been known to show some compassion for the people they use." Picard thought about what they'd done to and for Christopher Pike, one of their earlier victims.

"We didn't finish our conversation." Beverly felt awkward bringing up the subject. But she couldn't just leave the issue alone. Something had happened between them and she needed some verbal agreement between them about it, even if they only decided that they didn't know what it was. They had gone beyond tacit assumptions about each other's feelings.

"We didn't do a whole lot of talking, as I recall," he admitted.

"No," she agreed, grinning. "Jean-Luc, how do you feel," she asked, "about us?" she was uncomfortable asking since she wasn't sure if there could or should be an 'us' between them.

He looked at her and felt a twinge of longing. She was very attractive in more than just a physical sense. Sex would be easy between them, but romance could be difficult, for him at least, and maybe for her as well. And he knew they could never have one without the other.

He sighed. "I'm still not sure."

She didn't answer. She smiled, a little relieved to know that she wasn't the only one unsure about their feelings, and got up. Slowly she walked around the desk until she was facing him. He looked up at her a little warily. She leaned over and gently touched her lips to his. Her breath was warm.

"Let me know if you decide."

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><p><strong>oo!oo oo!oo END oo!oo oo!oo<strong>

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><p><strong>Note:<strong> This story was written by me and first printed (under the name 'Anne Davenport') in 1991, in _Hailing Frequencies _2, a fanzine back in the hard-copy and snail-mail days of fan-fiction, before the internet really took off.

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><p><strong>Disclaimer:<strong> All Trek characters and the universe belong to Paramount; I'm just playing in that sandbox.


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